


The moment seizes us

by sheewo



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Suffering Keith, i'm not sure what it is, musician Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 22:16:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13133334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheewo/pseuds/sheewo
Summary: Brokenhearted Keith remembers the story of the best relationships he's ever had.





	The moment seizes us

“Do you even love me, Keith?”

The question was so sudden and certain that it struck like a lightning, and Keith didn’t feel himself ready to face the upcoming thunder yet. Although, he didn’t want to survive either. Surviving meant he had to repeat the words he didn’t believe in, it meant he had to push himself into feeling something and pretending that he really did, surviving meant that he had to hold onto the wreckage of the broken boat, and Keith felt quiet relieved loosening his grip and going back into familiar embraces of the cold churning sea. For the several months, he got used to the darkness, to his face constantly being wet, he got used to the creatures hiding near, not letting to be seen but dropping little hints of their presence. As known, sound spreads better in the water and the depths that now Keith was a part of weren’t an exception. It really was easier to catch the sound of someone’s laugh, of music you used to enjoy but didn’t have a right mood to listen to now, the sound of two people whispering each other sweet things they didn’t know anybody else would pay attention to, and even the quiet sound of innocent kisses filled with nothing but desire to share love. It was easier to catch a single note of someone else’s happiness but then you had to remember how far away from it you actually were. Though, now there was another sound that drew Keith’s attention to it — it was the sound of a door slamming.

Keith fell on a bed and covered his eyes. He knew, very soon he was going to overthink every decision he’d ever made and enjoyed the brief moment during which he didn’t want to cry yet. Then, letting out a deep breath, he moved his hand and looked at the ceiling. He felt terrible. Not because of going back, underwater, but because of taking somebody else with him that time. Despite Keith being a whining disaster for the last couple of months, Lance always was there. He was caring, gentle, but most importantly – he was understanding. In fact, Keith found it quite impressive that he didn’t get tired of the one-sided relationship earlier. He was sorry to hurt such a solicitous guy, however, he knew it was going to become even more complicated with time if he didn’t do that now. After all, he was just an open wound Lance wasn’t able to heal. Slowly going down one more time, Keith suddenly felt thirsty.

He stood up from the bed and made his way up to the kitchen, not bothering himself to turn on the lamp – the cold winter light was just enough. Passing by a cupboard filled with a number of different packages of green, black and even white tea, Keith stopped. He opened the cupboard doors and looked at all those boxes. Citrus green tea, fruit tea, tea with strawberry pieces, simple lemon tea, and still, Keith didn’t feel like choosing any of those. He wanted something else.

 

 

 

“Coffee?”

It took Keith awhile to realize that a person was talking to him. Approaching the bus station, he didn’t notice anybody. Maybe because of the snow quickly falling on the ground and turning everything around into one big pie, all covered with sugar powder. Or maybe it happened because now Keith’s only goal was to get into a warm bus, put his ass in a seat and finally make it to his mom’s house. It was chilly outside and Keith felt too tired, and he probably looked like a ball of anger, so it really surprised him when a stranger decided to start a conversation.

“Sorry?” he asked, bestowing the guy one of his ‘What?’ looks.

The stranger smiled, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee?”

Keith stood still, studying the other man and thinking. Normally, he would’ve found it quite suspicious – a mysterious guy, coming from nowhere asked him to come along while nobody was there to see or to hear or, at least, to call the police if something bad happened. However, what he witnessed looking better at the stranger made him think that the only death awaiting him was the death of laughter. His interlocutor was wearing a red hat with a pom-pom and knitted mittens, his cheeks all pink and a naive smile on his face. Moreover, the guy was pretty tall so it seemed as if a six-years-old was stuck in a body of an adult. Though, there was a questionable mark across his nose – Keith didn’t know if that was a scar or something else, but he definitely didn’t want to stare more than necessary, so he moved his gaze to the stranger’s eyes and squinted, “And why exactly would I do that?”

The guy looked amused. “Well,” he started, “You see, I don’t think that anything is going to arrive until the weather clears up, and I suppose, you agree that it’s insanely cold today,” following a gesture of the stranger, Keith looked around one more time, as if it wasn’t him who stood there for the last half an hour, trying to remember all the curses he’d ever heard. Needless to say, the guy had a point, “So I wanna go somewhere with coffee, heather and maybe some good music and, actually, I just don’t have the heart to leave you here all alone.” Those words would’ve seemed sweet if they weren’t so offending, Keith wondered. That was hilarious how all those people, convinced of his helplessness were able to find him even among the fresh snow piles in the dim light of a single lamppost. Keith narrowed his eyebrows and looked away. Though, the lack of the interlocutor didn’t prevent the other guy from talking: “It’s not that I think you can’t take care of yourself or so,” the part drew Keith’s attention back, “I mean, you wear leather gloves…”

“Leather gloves?”, Keith asked, folding his arms. “Now, that is getting interesting”, he thought.

“Yeah, you know, they say that a guy who wears leather gloves has a nineteen percent chance to kick someone’s ass.”

Keith couldn’t help but finally gave up and chuckled. As an old habit, the thought that the stranger was just trying to make fun of him crossed Keith’s mind. But when he looked at the guy again, greeted by a kind smile, dividing two pink cheeks, by a pom-pom hat, slowly changing its colour from red to white, by the couple of eyes, framed by the eyelashes with rare snowflakes clinging to them, the thought of being laughed at was long gone.

“Fine,” Keith said, “Let’s go.”

 

 

The lateness of the hour didn’t scare people away, so the place turned out to be pretty crowded that evening. Everybody in there seemed to be hiding from the snowstorm. Keith and his companion were very lucky to get a seat on one of the coaches – all the new customers had to wait for a waiter to bring them a chair so they could squeeze in beside the other people at the bar. Despite the not very comfortable conditions, the atmosphere in the café was inviting. The anticipation of the upcoming Christmas, the fusion of different delicious smells, the warmth, the music and the friendliness of other people gathered in the little shelter — the café was poorly decorated but it felt more festive than Christmas itself. The workers were running around, carrying as much cups of hot drinks as the size of their trays could allow and insisting on everybody to have a blanket. And whoever showed up in the café now either didn’t think of leaving it at all or simply couldn’t resist the concern of the employees.

Looking into the empty mug where richly smelling hot chocolate used to be not so long ago, wrapped in his blanket, Keith was listening to another story of his new acquaintance. They shared a table with some couple who were very busy studying each other’s mouths to pay any attention to their neighbours. It wasn’t too awkward since Keith also didn’t care about the classes. He had a great time with the coffee-guy and was gloating at his old self supposing that staying at the empty bus station was a right thing to do.

The guy’s name was Takashi Shirogane, Shiro, for short and Keith already loved the soothing sound of the word, it was the name you wanted to whisper or to hear somebody else whispering it to you. In the bright light of the café lamps, he finally was able to take a better look at the not-so-much-of-a-stranger. The mysterious mark on Shiro’s face was, indeed, a scar, however, it was a question how did the guy manage to get it on both sides of his nose. Shiro also had an awesome haircut, sideburns and, even though the greater part of his hair was dark-coloured, his bangs were all white as if he forgot to tuck it under the funny hat so it was all covered with frost now. Admitting that the dyed part looked cool, Keith also found it quite adorable. Despite all those interesting details, the most outstanding thing about him, the one that made Keith get used to it again and again not being able to do it anyway, was his voice – a fusion of strength and tenderness, soft and low, syrup-thick, Keith enjoyed listening to it, and when his interlocutor said he was a musician, the only thing Keith could think of was “Of course you are.”

“We’re not so popular yet, but we might be,” he said, draining a cup of coffee with milk.

“Then you have to leave me an autograph so I could sell it when you are.”

Shiro smiled at the phrase at first and then there was a smirk on his face. He put the cup down on the table and turned his head to face Keith: “And why exactly would I do that?” he said, mimicking Keith’s words back at the bus station, careful enough not to seem rude.

Calmed by the warm cocoa in his tummy, the soft blanket around his shoulders, the deep voice and the dark grey eyes, Keith gave in and played along, “Cause we’d share the money and buy more coffee.” he answered, smiling at the guy. Shiro laughed.

And that was how the night had passed — they laughed, talked, ate French fries, not to mention there was a childish fight for the last one (Shiro won and he seemed to gain more satisfaction by teasing Keith about it). Surrounded by the noisy strangers, delicious smells and the rare ringing of a bell above the entrance to the café, they didn’t notice how the snow stopped, and when the first rays of morning sun touched Keith’s forehead, he was peacefully sleeping leaning on Shiro’s shoulder.

 

 

 

Keith pulled his eyes away from the colourful packages gathered on the shelf. Interrupted by the sudden memories, he changed his mind — now Keith wanted to walk… he needed to walk, his lungs and, what was more important, his _mind_ longed for some fresh air. And he hoped that maybe the chilly wind would be so kind that time to blow the painful thoughts away, to carry it off as lightly as it would do to a straw hat on a peaceful summer day. He slowly put on a coat, shoes and, leaving the emptiness of his apartment behind, firmly walked into embracing twilight flowing among the faceless streets. Fun fact about memories – even though it’s wildly known that the slightest thing like a smell or a melody, even a word can arouse them, sometimes they don’t need anything at all to take over your head.

 

Summer. Afternoon. The bright light of the closest star travels through the great amount of space just to meet the cotton fabric of white sheets and obediently turn into dim warm glowing gently covering two human beings. With full attention of a model student, Keith was watching a pair of dry lips leaving quick kisses on his tummy. From time to time, he couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh. And then, carelessly playing with black and white strands fingers stopped for a bit to take a grip of the soft hair. They did not talk that much. Only rare fragments of sentences, few words said or _murmured_ in muted voices. And still, there was nothing misunderstood left between them.

_Here._

_Is it good?_

_Just perfect._

They could’ve made it without saying even those, but both of them started missing each other’s voices, both of them needed a proof that it was not an occasional dream. Though, none of them wouldn’t want to wake up anyway. There wasn’t _yours_ and _mine_. _Mine_ meant _yours_ , _yours_ meant _ours_ and _ours_ meant _I’m going to die with this exact moment._ Intervened fingers, someone’s lips on someone’s neck, staring into each other’s eyes, either filled with love and admiration and eternal care. So special and personal, sharing a secret and longing to scream about it from the top of your lungs. Like fucking in a museum but now you _could_ touch the main masterpiece. I’m an art critic, I know your body so well. I’m a sufferer who has felt for your ivory shoulders. I’m a lucky one because I don’t need to ask a goddess to make the statue alive.

It was weird how under the sheets, in the muggy hot air it was easier to breathe than it seemed then, so far away from their cotton shelter. There are these moments in your life, during which you just know that you’ll never be happier and more wholesome than you are now. And Keith knew it. Walking down the scarcely crowded street in the dim light, he, of all people, knew it. And what was more important, he knew it back then. Breathing in the familiar, beloved scent, he was thinking about how one day it all was going to end. And he couldn’t make out if it was a blessing or a curse.

**Author's Note:**

> And here we go. I'm not quite sure about the fic and I'm less sure how to end it so it might actually be the end of the story lol  
> It is inspired by the song of Tom Odell - Another love  
> Also, I would be very happy if you point out my mistakes because I want to develop my skills so it's really important!  
> Anyways, thank you for reading~


End file.
